[Vincent is bent over Mia, talking softly to her, when Lance reenters the room.]
Vincent: Quit fuckin’ around man and give her the shot!
[Lance bends down by the black case brought in by Jody. He opens it and begins preparing the needle for injection.]
Lance: While I'm doing this, take her shirt off and find her heart.
[Jody stumbles back in the room, hanging back from the action.]
Vincent: Does it have to be exact?
Lance: Yeah, it has to be exact! I'm giving her an injection in the heart, so I gotta exactly hit her in the heart.
Vincent: Well, I don't know exactly where her heart is, I think it's here.
[Vince points to Mia's right breast. Lance glances over and nods.]
Lance: That's it.
[As Lance readies the injection, Vincent looks up at Jody.]
Vincent: I need a big fat magic marker, got one?
Jody: What?
Vincent: I need a big fat magic marker, any felt pen'll do, but a magic marker would be great.
Jody: Hold on.
[Jody runs to the desk, opens the top drawer and, in her enthusiasm, she pulls the drawer out of the desk, the contents of which (bills, papers, pens) spill to the floor. The injection is ready. Lance hands Vincent the needle.]
Lance: It's ready, I'll tell you what to do.
Vincent: You're gonna give her the shot.
Lance: No, you're gonna give her the shot.
Vincent: I've never does this before.
Lance: I've never done this before either, and I ain't starting now. You brought 'er here, that means you give her the shot. The day I bring an ODing bitch to your place, then I gotta give her the shot.
[Jody hurriedly joins them in the huddle, a big fat red magic marker in her hand.]
Jody: Got it.
[Vincent grabs the magic marker out of Jody's hand and makes a big red dot on Mia's body where her heart is.]
Vincent: Okay, what do I do?
Lance: Well, you're giving her an injection of adrenaline straight to her heart. But she's got a breast plate in front of her heart, so you gotta pierce through that. So what you gotta do is bring the needle down in a stabbing motion.
[Lance demonstrates a stabbing motion, which looks like "The Shape" killing its victims in "HALLOWEEN".]
Vincent: I gotta stab her?
Lance: If you want the needle to pierce through to her heart, you gotta stab her hard. Then once you do, push down on the plunger.
Vincent: What happens after that?
Lance: I'm curious about that myself.
Vincent: This ain't a fuckin' joke man!
Lance: She's supposed to come out of it like [snaps his fingers] that.
Vincent lifts the needle up above his head in a stabbing motion. He looks down on Mia. Mia is fading fast. Soon nothing will help her. Vincent's eyes narrow, ready to do this.
Vincent: Count to three.
[Lance, on this knees right beside Vincent, does not know what to expect.]
Lance: One...
[RED DOT on Mia's body. Needle raised ready to strike. ]
Lance: ...two...
[Jody's face is alive with anticipation. NEEDLE in that air, poised like a rattler ready to strike.]
Lance: ...three!
[The needle leaves frame, THRUSTING down hard. Vincent brings the needle down hard, STABBING Mia in the chest. Mia's head is JOLTED from the impact. The syringe plunger is pushed down, PUMPING the adrenaline out through the needle. Mia's eyes POP WIDE OPEN and she lets out a HELLISH cry of the banshee. She BOLTS UP in a sitting position, needle stuck in her chest – SCREAMING. Vincent, Lance and Jody, who were in sitting positions in front of Mia, JUMP BACK, scared to death. Mia's scream runs out. She slowly starts taking breaths of air. The other three, now scooted halfway across the room, shaken to their bones, look to see if she's alright.]
Lance: If you're okay, say something.
[Mia, still breathing, not looking up at them, says in a relatively normal voice.]
Mia: Something.
[Vincent and Lance collapse on their backs, exhausted and shaking from how close to death Mia came.]
Jody: Anybody want a beer?
This reminds me of a joke. This guy, he comes into a bar, walks up to the Bartender and says, "Bartender, I got me a bet for you. I'm gonna bet you 300 dollars that I can piss into that glass over there and not spill a single solitary drop." The bartender says ... now one more time this glass is like a good ten feet away ... he says, "Now wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You're trying to tell me you're gonna bet me 300 dollars that YOU can piss standing over here waaay over there, into that glass, and not spill a single drop?" The guy looks up smiling and says, "That's right." The bartender says, "Young man you gotta bet!" The guy says, "Okay, here we go, here we go." He pulls out his thang. He's looking at the glass, man he's thinking about the glass, he's thinking about the glass, he thinks glass, he's thinking of the glass, think glass, thinking about his dick. Dick, glass. Dick, glass. Dick, glass. Be the glass. Dick, glass. Dick, glass. Dick, glass. And then SWOOOSH. He let's it rip! And he's ... he's pissin' all over the place, man! He's pissin' on the bar ... he's pissin' on the stools, on the floor, on the phone ... on the bartender ... He's pissing everywhere EXCEPT the fucking glass! Right. Okay, so, bartender, he's laughing his fucking ass off, he's 300 dollars richer. He's like, "Ha Ha Ha Ha." Piss drippin' off his face. "Ha Ha Ha Ha" He says, "You FUCKIN' idiot, man. You pissed in everything EXCEPT the glass!! You owe me 300 dollars puta." And he goes, "Excuse me, just one, one second." Goes in the back of the bar, and in the back there's a couple of guys playing pool. He walks over to them ... comes back to the bar and goes, "Here you go Mr. Bartender, three." And the bartender's like, "WHAT the fuck are you so happy about, you just lost 300 dollars you idiot?!" The guy says, "Well, you see those guys over there. I just bet them 500 dollars APIECE, that I could piss on your bar, piss on your floor, piss on your phone, and piss on YOU, and not only would you be not mad about it ... you'd be happy..."
Three tomatoes are walkin' down the street.
Papa Tomato, Mama Tomato and Baby Tomato.
Baby Tomato starts lagging behind, and Papa Tomato gets really angry.
Goes back and squishes him and says: "Ketchup."
Ketchup...
Three tomatoes are walkin' down the street.
Papa Tomato, Mama Tomato and Baby Tomato.
Baby Tomato starts lagging behind, and Papa Tomato gets really angry.
Goes back and squishes him and says: "Ketchup."
Catch up...
Three tomatoes are walkin' down the street.
Papa Tomato, Mama Tomato and Baby Tomato.
Baby Tomato starts lagging behind, and Papa Tomato gets really angry.
Goes back and squishes him and says: "Catch up."
Ketchup...
you won't know the facts until you've seen the fiction...
Vincent: What'd he do, fuck her?
Jules: No no no no no no no, nothin' that bad.
Vincent: Well what then?
Jules: He gave her a foot massage.
Vincent: A foot massage?
[Jules nods his head: "Yes."]
Vincent: That's all?
[Jules nods his head: "Yes."]
Vincent: What did Marsellus do?
Jules: Sent a couple of guys over to his place. They took him out on the patio of his apartment, threw his ass over the balcony. Nigger fell four stories. They had this garden at the bottom, enclosed in glass, like one of them greenhouses –nigger fell through that. Since then, he's kinda developed a speech impediment.
Vincent: That's a damn shame.
Vincent: Still I hafta say, play with matches, ya get burned.
Jules: Whaddya mean?
Vincent: You don't be givin' Marsellus Wallace's new bride a foot massage.
Jules: You don't think he overreacted?
Vincent: Antwan probably didn't expect Marsellus to react like he did, but he had to expect a reaction.
Jules: It was a foot massage, a foot massage is nothing, I give my mother a foot massage.
Vincent: [about a foot massage] It's layin' your hands in a familiar way on Marsellus' new wife. I mean, is it as bad as eatin' her pussy out? No, but it's the same fuckin' ballpark.
Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. Eating a bitch out and giving a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fucking thing.
Vincent: It's not. It's the same ballpark.
Jules: Ain't no fucking ballpark neither. Now, look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touching his wife's feet and sticking your tongue in the holiest of holies ain't the same fucking ballpark. It ain't the same league. It ain't even the same fucking sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be telling me about foot massages, I'm the foot fuckin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of them?
Jules: Shit, yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothing.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: [pause] Fuck you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Yo, yo, yo, man, you best back off. I'm getting pissed here. This is the door.
Vincent: There it is.
Jules: What time you got?
Vincent: [looks at his watch] 7:22 in the a.m.
Jules: No, it's not time yet. Let's hang back. [they go into an empty hallway] Look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antoine into a glass motherfucking house, fucking up the way the nigga talks. That shit ain't right. Motherfucker do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass because I'd kill the motherfucker. Know what I'm saying?
Vincent: I ain't saying it's right. But you're saying a foot massage don't mean nothing, and I'm saying it does. Now, look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so fucking cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, fucking Marsellus knew it, and Antoine should have fucking better known better. I mean, that's his fucking wife, man. He ain't gonna have no sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?
Jules: That's an interesting point. [pause] C'mon, let's get into character...
Hello, little man. Boy, I sure heard a bunch about you. See, I was a good friend of your dad's. We were in that Hanoi pit of hell together over five years. Hopefully, you'll never have to experience this yourself...
Girl, you'll be a woman... soon
I love you so much, can't count all the ways
I've died for you girl and all they can say is
"He's not your kind"
They never get tired of putting me down
And I'll never know when I come around
What I'm gonna find
Don't let them make up your mind.
Don't you know...
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Please, come take my hand
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Soon, you'll need a man...
I've been misunderstood for all of my life
But what they're saying girl it cuts like a knife
"The boy's no good"
Well I've finally found what I'm a looking for
But if they get their chance they'll end it for sure
Surely would
Baby I've done all I could
Now it's up to you...
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Please, come take my hand
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Soon, you'll need a man...
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Please, come take my hand
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Soon but soon, you'll need a man...
Margaret Thatcher
The lady who changed the world
Apr 8th 2013, 12:35 by Economist.com
ONLY a handful of peace-time politicians can claim to have changed the world. Margaret Thatcher, who died this morning, was one. She transformed not just her own Conservative Party, but the whole of British politics. Her enthusiasm for privatisation launched a global revolution and her willingness to stand up to tyranny helped to bring an end to the Soviet Union. Winston Churchill won a war, but he never created an “ism”.
The essence of Thatcherism was to oppose the status quo and bet on freedom - odd, since as a prim control freak, she was in some ways the embodiment of conservatism. She thought nations could become great only if individuals were set free. Her struggles had a theme: the right of individuals to run their own lives, as free as possible from the micromanagement of the state...
written by a guy... i must say i like the guy.. what i mean is the stuff he writes.. challenge yourselves and try to translate this into english...;)
